


tamed

by mingowow



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Character Study??, Freeform, Le Petit Prince References, M/M, idolverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 03:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17716871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mingowow/pseuds/mingowow
Summary: "the stars are beautiful, because of a flower that cannot be seen."Wonwoo believes that when he falls asleep with a book on his chest, the ideas and dreams and all the lovely bits that lay within its pages somehow seep into his body.





	tamed

**Author's Note:**

> i'm delirious with sleep but this came to me and i couldn't deny writing it.
> 
> unbeta'd, i'm sorry for any mistakes!
> 
> please enjoy and let me know what you think~

Wonwoo believes that when he falls asleep with a book on his chest, the ideas and dreams and all the lovely bits that lay within its pages somehow seep into his body. 

It all begins with ‘The Little Prince’.

For as short as the book is, Wonwoo can’t finish it in one sitting. He starts it in the van one oh too early morning on the way to a pre-recording. Seungcheol and Mingyu are having some sort of shouting match and Vernon, so luckily, is conked out with his jaw slack and headphones blaring.

“Ya, quiet down,” he scolds Mingyu, whose sitting beside him and leaning forward to poke at their leader. Wonwoo missed what the argument was about but if Mingyu’s pout is any indication, the tallest member is losing.

But he does listen to his hyung, slouching back with a huff and mumbling under his breath about never getting the last word.

Wonwoo grins and somehow loses himself in staring at his fellow member, the tiny hardcover forgotten in his hands.

He picks it up again that night, after a day packed with comeback activities.

It’s already past 2AM and members are still winding down. Wonwoo is freshly washed up and lounged back on his bed in the living area of the dorm, flipping to the page he’s dogeared and letting his eyes sweep over the illustration in front of him.

“’The Little Prince’? Isn’t that a children’s book? A bit below your level?” Mingyu asks as he shuffles by, not bothering to give Wonwoo another look as he wanders into the open kitchen and searches through the fridge.

Wonwoo eyes the younger’s Doraemon patterned pajama pants but chooses not to comment on their _childish level_.

“You’re never too old to reread a classic.”

Truthfully, Wonwoo hasn’t read the story since he was maybe eight or so, and while he remembers the gist, he has forgotten the details. And, to him, it’s a whole new book to read now that he’s essentially an adult. There are new nuances to pick up on, jokes to catch, meanings to hunt for.

“Okay, then tell me: is it an elephant or a hat?” Mingyu asks between swigs from the 2-liter water bottle in his hand. Wonwoo cracks a small smile behind the pages before neutralizing his expression to scold the younger about pouring it into a cup.

The damage is done but Mingyu listens anyway, pulling out a large plastic glass with Moomin printed on the side.

He doesn’t finish the story that night either, the chaos and busyness of the day catching up with him. He nods off somewhere around the point of lying flowers and miniature volcanoes.

His dreams that night are vivid, leaving tingly dust in his eyes, but he forgets them entirely by the time he finishes up in the shower.

Wonwoo forgets the book that day but it stays with him, lingering in the back of his mind like a nagging, buzzing fruit fly.

It comes up so often, or maybe it doesn’t. Maybe he just finds ways to stretch his reality so that it resembles the story. Life imitates art, depending on how it’s viewed. He’s a firm believer in the notion that one finds what they are endlessly searching for.

But somewhere between the members’ comparison of him and a fox, the realization of the remarkable resemblance between cumulus clouds and sheep outside the van’s window, and a rose gifted from one hopeful, starry-eyed fan... he begins to wonder.

You see, Wonwoo has never looked for meaning in these types of situations. For as much as he loves stories, as much as he loses himself in books, the whimsy of them has never been the draw.

Wonwoo likes facts. He likes learning and absorbing, he likes filing things away in his memory so he can flex on others. ‘Oh, you don’t know the meaning behind white Chrysanthemums? Let me inform you.’ ‘You can’t tell what crossbreed that pup is? I can tell you my educated guess.’

It’s all for show, really. For while he’s intelligent and witty and overflowing with useless information, he knows he’s not the smartest. In general or even out of the members. School was a bit of a bore to him.

But now that it’s not a requirement, now that he can do it himself, just as he pleases... learning is fun. He likes being seen as the clever and smart one, even if it’s a title half bestowed upon him just because he wears glasses.

“God, it’s like the fucking Sahara in here,” Mingyu whines, a portable fan in each hand, both pointed directly at his sweaty, flushed face. The dressing room is unseasonably warm and their manager hasn’t been able to successfully find someone to turn down the heat.

“In the day or night?” Wonwoo asks. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and he can feel the slow drip of sweat down the curve of his spine, even though it’s early February.

Mingyu lets out a whine. “Does it matter? It’s hot!” 

“The Sahara can actually get pretty cold at night, during the winter,” Wonwoo rattles off.

His contacts are out and his glasses are tucked away in his backpack somewhere in their dressing room, but even being nearly blind, his memory can easily conjure up the expression of annoyance mixed with sheepishness on Mingyu’s face.

It’s only when he sees Mingyu’s form lunge toward him and shove the fans in his face that he allows his eyes to squint. Not to actually see anything, but because of the bouts of laughter bubbling from him as he tries to shove the bigger male off him.

Mingyu chooses the exact worst moment to sneeze, wet spit and who knows what else splattering across Wonwoo’s cheek.

“Mingyu! Cover your mouth!”

The younger mutters an apology but Wonwoo doesn’t miss the smile he’s biting back.

Mingyu pulls his sleeve up over his hand to wipe at the wetness on Wonwoo’s face, motions too rough and sloppy to do a decent job cleaning. But Wonwoo still acknowledges the attempt and appreciates it.

That night, the whole lot go out for dinner and drinks. There are endless bottles of soju and beer, Wonwoo not indulging much because he never usually does. But he feels light and fuzzy around the edges from the few glasses he’s sipped on, enough so that he doesn’t mind the smudges on the lenses of his glasses or how Chan accidentally smears gochujang on his shirt.

Seungcheol is settling their bill as they all shrug on their coats, the energy having mellowed out significantly. Someone squeezes Wonwoo’s shoulder a bit too hard and he turns to find a pink-cheeked Mingyu with mused hair gazing at him, eyebrows drawn.

“Hyung... you’re okay, right?”

Wonwoo can’t help but laugh. “What? Of course. I’m great.”

“You sure? You have that look.” Mingyu hiccups and sways a little, Wonwoo bracing him by grabbing onto his elbow.

“What look?”

“That look. The one you have when you’re alone.”

Wonwoo licks over his lips. “If I have it when I’m alone, then how would you know what it looks like?”

Mingyu’s face contorts and Wonwoo hears the manager telling them to head out. His feet feel a little bit heavy but there are bigger concerns than his buzzed sleepiness as he guides a drunk Mingyu towards the parking lot.

“I just do, alright? Forget it, I just thought you looked lonely, s’all,” Mingyu slurs, partly from the alcohol maybe, but Wonwoo knows him well enough that it’s due to slight embarrassment too.

“How could I be lonely when we’re all together at dinner?” he asks with another small laugh, yanking the van door open. He nudges Mingyu to step inside the car but the younger just turns to look at him, frowning slightly.

“You can be in a room of people and still feel lonely, hyung.”

Wonwoo’s chest contracts and he shivers at the wintery wind assaulting his bare cheeks. He tries to push Mingyu into the car again but he’s too big to fully man-handle, even in his inebriated state.

“True. But I never feel lonely when I’m with you.”

It seems to be the right thing to say because Mingyu finally smiles and stumbles into the van, passing out within minutes, his head lolled against the cold window.

Wonwoo usually hates sharing the bed but that night, he doesn’t mind the heavy weight on his outstretched arm or the deep, alcohol-induced snores from beside him that fill his ears.

In the morning, Wonwoo is the first to wake.

The dorm is silent and it’s still dark outside, that stretch of dawn where the sky is painted a deep purple-y black and he feels removed from himself, like it’s all a dream. 

He doesn’t drink coffee but he makes some anyway for whoever else and mixes it with ice, setting it aside on the counter.

Jihoon wakes shortly after and while incessantly sipping on a 1.5 liter of Coke, he stares at Wonwoo from across the living area. The producer doesn’t acknowledge Mingyu’s form draped diagonally across the other’s bed. Wonwoo feels less uncomfortable about it than he thinks maybe he should.

“You know,” Jihoon sighs, blowing over the opening of the bottle, letting out a soft whistle, “we all see the same things but differently.”

Wonwoo cocks an eyebrow. Jihoon’s hair is sticking up in different directions and his t-shirt is stretched out at the collar, hanging awkwardly off his body. But Wonwoo listens seriously all the same.

“You see this as gross, I see it as necessity,” Jihoon explains further, holding up the bottle in his hand for emphasis. Wonwoo smirks, rubbing at his eyes under his glasses.

“Right.”

“Whatever we have, it’s ours. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. As long as we are true to what we want, that’s what’s important.”

Wonwoo shifts on his feet and moves to sit on the couch, feet curling up under his body.

“Coke is important to you, yes, right.”

“I made a commitment to it. We’ve forged a lovely, deep relationship that nobody else can understand. I don’t expect you to get it.” 

Mingyu sighs in his sleep and Wonwoo can’t help but look over.

Jihoon clears his throat suddenly and when their eyes meet again, the leader is smirking at him, eyes squinted.

“I got it, Jihoon-ah. Loud and clear.” Wonwoo is surprised how unbothered he feels at being this exposed. “We are responsible for what we tame.”

Jihoon cackles, loudly and physically, his head thrown back and limbs kicking. The Coke sloshes around in the bottle but doesn’t escape.

It’s funny. It’s also not.

But Wonwoo doesn’t expect anyone else to get it, either.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/gyuwuhao)


End file.
